These are pretty birds. Are they weaver birds?
There was cacophony in the morning as what I guess were weaver birds fed their young.
I think I played with camera settings to get this shot. Not too bad.
It is a tradition at the Buffalo Hotel to kiss the buffalo by standing on the bar and leaning over. I watched for a bit and realised the angle wasn't that great and so not much danger of falling down. The muscular bartender stayed below to catch anyone. I wanted to check his muscles and give an approving look with raised eyebrows and an oh, la la, before I kissed the buffalo, but R gets embarrassed when I do things like that, so I did not. You can't really see his face, but he was nice looking and certainly capable of catching a falling damsel in distress and hopefully an older bloke.
I went outside to look around. I had never been outside the front of the hotel. There was a room to walk through where local people were dining. Two of the butchest looking dykes were just leaving after dinner with a couple of boys less than ten years old. Their children? I don't know. It looked like it. I came back inside to see this lad arrive at the hotel. He asked our tour guide to play pool with him. He knew our tour guide's name, but our tour leader did not seem to know him. His shorts were terribly brief, and while I am not saying he is gay, I think so, but very straight acting. While there were plenty of men around watching rugby on the tv and drinking beer, it did seem to be the local place for gays and lesbians. I did ask the pool playing lad if I could take some photos and I bought him a drink. He told me his name, but it was a hard name to remember Afrikaans name.
Days have become confused. I think I have posted more days in South Africa than we were actually there. I will blame the cameras dates for photos being out of sync and confusing me.
There was an incident, involving me! So, ok, this happened the night before. Two men were chatting outside at a table, one smoking furiously. Later it turned out to be that the non smoking one was our tour guide in Kruger Park the next day. He had given up smoking and was now vaping. Good for him. I stood outside not far away at a tree table and a doe eyed African youth came up to me. I assumed he was staff. He politely asked if he could speak to me. Of course. Don't mind me looking at my phone while we speak. I asked him if the empty container he had was his dinner. Yes, he said. I then asked, do you actually work here? Yes, he said with little confidence. Some vague chat. His voice was soft and quiet. Eventually I said I said I must rejoin my friends. Ok, he said. I will call you later. I replied, sure, please do. But he did not have my phone number. What was that all about, but I didn't give much thought to it until the next day when I heard the hotel compound security had been breached. Apparently this lad got in and he should not have. Our Kruger Park guide was going ballistic at management. Do you realise how much cash we are carrying and how much we have in our rooms overnight.
R gleefully informed everyone how I was involved in the security breach. Well, no damage done. The breacher of security lad did have the prettiest of eyes but I can well imagine him going through things to find some loot.